


Count to ten (and let go)

by Sann



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Murder, Avengers Feels, BAMF Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Immortality, Kind-of attemped suicide, Misunderstandings, Secrets, Tony Feels, Tony is kind of messed up, Tony-centric, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sann/pseuds/Sann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony should have died a good twenty-eight times already, knows that normal bodies don't endure the way his does.</p><p>He did the math, checked his DNA himself.</p><p>Get rid of the suit and what's left?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

One

His father tried to drown him once, when he was so far gone in his crystal tumbler of whiskey that he couldn't discern right from wrong. He was roaring about how it _wasn't fair_ and _I want him back, take him instead!_

The water in the too-large bathtub was icy-cold, and for a long time Tony didn't know the significance.

(He did years later, reading about the death of his father's hero on endless icy plains. But by then he was too far gone for his heart to care, nerve-endings numbed forever by the icy water of the tub that night.)

But he didn't drown, not even when Howard's grip slacked after more than eight minutes and he passed out in a drunken stupor. He was cold, fingertips numb and arms shaking as he stepped out of the bathroom to pass out in the hallway. But his heart kept beating, even when his lungs had long since stopped screaming for air.

 

Five

He was shot at point-blank range, the bullet piercing his heart at just the right places.

He was fifteen and he knew he should be dead.

So he took a shuddering breath and _let go_.

And then he took another, and another and then ten more. His chest kept rising, his lungs kept inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide. He opened his eyes, meeting those of his surprised captor as the man glanced in shock at his gun and then back at Tony's bloody chest.

So he shot him again, and again, and again.

And in between the screams Tony's chest kept rising.

In the end the guy shot him through his head before killing himself, not wanting to wait to see if that last shot could get the job done.

(It didn't, but it hurt like hell and made him pass out.)

Tony woke up to a nurse's face telling him how lucky he was, how the man had emptied his magazine on the floor and Tony was lucky to escape unharmed. The blood stain on his shirt was odd, but who knows what happened to him when he was unconscious? He had been taken for hours after all.

 

Eighteen

He blew himself up in one of his more remote houses, just because he could.

For a second all he saw was a flash, and then his vision went black.

When he came to it was to another nurse's face (that made ten, he had kept count) explaining how his house had exploded and the gas line must have been faulty and how he was so _god damned lucky_ to be alive.

When he came home he laughed and laughed and laughed. And then he threw a bottle of scotch against the wall, followed by whatever china he could find in the cabinet his interior designed picked out for him.

And then he laughed some more.

 

Twenty-seven

Those assholes in Afghanistan ripped his heart apart, the shrapnel should have killed him the moment it entered his body. His fellow captive might have thought he was saving his life but he wasn't, not in the slightest.

But it was a funny little thing, perfectly harmless for _someone like him_. And it might even give him an explanation in any further death-experiences. An out; a perfect way to spin some bullshit tale at a press conference.

Yinsen looked at him like he was a total nutjob when he started laughing as he picked at the tech in his chest.

(But Yinsen would never understand, _fuck_ ; no one ever did)

 

Thirty-four

The whole team was watching as the villain-of-the-week pumped him full of lead. The fucker hadn't even given him the time to put on his suit, _asshole_.

His body gave a shock as he took an involuntary step backwards and glanced at the blood seeping into his clothes with a look of resignation.

Bruce transformed on the spot while Thor and Steve let out a simultaneous battle-cry/roar combination that sounded pretty awesome. Barton and Natasha were aiming their weapons with too-calm faces while Tony let himself fall to the ground and stared counting.

 

One. Two. Three.

 

_In. Out. In. Out._

Four. Five. Six.

 

And his chest kept rising, it _always did_.

 

Natasha was at his side now, hands trying to staunch the blood as she was hollering for a fucking med-team to arrive. But Tony's mind was occupied, fingers digging into the watch on his wrist as his slippery red fingers pressed the button that would make his suit arrive.

He stood up when he reached _thirty_. Pushing aside Natasha's gobsmacked face as he patted down his arms and chest. His hands came back red, they always did, but he ignored the sticky wetness in favour glancing at the would-be-villain. The fucker, ruining his good shirt.

(Ruining his façade, letting people know secrets he'd never wanted to divulge)

The villain was dead, _properly_ dead. Not his own brand of special snowflake 'I'm to cool for a coffin'-death. He would have counted the bullet holes and arrows sticking out of the guy, for curiosity's sake, but the body was charred beyond recognition and bent at an unfortunate angle.

"Tony?" it was Steve, voice broken and unbelieving and so damn wrong coming out of the capsicle's mouth that Tony wanted to deck him there and now.

"Guess I should've told you guys, eh?" he joked running a bloody hand through his hair and flinching back at the wince that crossed his teammate's faces. "But well, _surprise_!"

He spread his arms out wide, grinning his best winning smile. "The cat's out of the bag now. I'm just the same old me, except a little more indestructible and perhaps ten percent more awesome."

The look on Steve's face was enough to make him backtrack a bit, "or make that five. Five percent more awesome? I mean- oh fuck this. I can't die, okay? I counted and everything, I should have been dead thirty-three times. This makes thirty-four, actually. And yes, I tried, of course I did. So this isn't some fluke or anything."

The suit had arrived, red and gold as bold and bright and inappropriate for the moment and atmosphere as ever. He didn't waste a second in putting it on, no one lifting a finger as if to stop him. And then he dealt with the problem in an ancient way that had never failed him; getting the hell away until it was solved. And alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol.

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

He lasted a whole two weeks, holed up in one of the more off-the-record houses he had. It was a big mansion smack-dab in Hollywood, lined by similar mansions housing big-name celebs and old guys with barely legal wives. It was where everyone expected him to live yet never searched for him. It was logic, when you're hiding it's either in a rundown warehouse or a remote mansion-slash-bunker. Not in Hollywood, living next to Johnny Depp and Halle Berry.

That his mansion came with a basement that housed his most recent suit and a security system that would make Fury salivate, well, that was because it was not Johnny Depp who lived there. It was Tony Stark and he had _standards_.

So when the alarm rang and Jarvis' smooth voice asked whether he should let Mister Barton and Miss Romanov in Tony felt he had ran enough and that now it was time to bullshit himself through whatever would come. So he said yes and grabbed the biggest glass he had and filled it to the rim with scotch.

Natasha's raised eyebrow when she saw him sipping the giant glass monstrosity was worth it.

"It's not like I'm ever going to die of kidney failure, sweetheart." He greeted her bluntly, "so, is it just you or should I expect the guys in the white coats to drag me to the lab next? A lab that I helped fund, by the way. The coats are SI standard issue too, they even have our logo and all."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Clint shot back, seating himself on the edge of one of his chairs.

"And what, be ridiculed? 'Hey guys, I can't die. And no, I'm not crazy, I tried. It's totally legit.' That would have gone over well."

"We have nothing against mutants," Natasha interjected, "we are a team, you know that."

"Not a mutant," Tony yawned, "did the DNA test, trust me. I just don't die. I've tried everything but actual dismemberment and it never really took hold. The arc reactor isn't much more than a decorative reading light, I had Jarvis remove the shrapnel ages ago. I technically should have died during the surgery, I actually did; I think. That was number twenty-nine. Twenty-eight was Yinsen putting the whole thing in my chest in the first place."

"Think of the potential Tony, if this can be replicated-"

"Getting shot hurts, Natasha, as does drowning. The pain isn't gone just because of that, you want to doom an entire army to being your meat shields? To be shot and hurt and bleed for you, to willingly jump into the line of fire to save your feeble life? I won't let you, so tell Fury where I told him to stick it and get the hell out of my house."

"I didn't mean it like that," the is something hurt shining in Natasha's eyes, a sorrow he desperately wants to believe is real.

(he doesn't)

"Sorry sweet-cheeks," he grinned and lifted his glass to her in a silent salute, "and do send in Thor when you leave, he's sticking out like a sore thumb standing in front of my gate in full armour with a bouquet of flowers."

 

*.*.*.*.*

 

Thor was easy, thrusting the flowers at him with a hollered: "My dearest Lady Jane said this is a Midgardian custom, to bequeath flowers to those who hurt! I have thus scoured the streets for flowers most suited and the merchant insisted this was for one you love most dearly!"

The red roses _are_ very pretty, wrapped in their heart-speckled foil with a 'I love you' card attached to one of the stems.

"Thanks," he put the flowers down on the table and grinned at the loveable blonde giant. "They are great, Thor, I really appreciate it."

The god merely smiled back broadly, eyes crinkled and dimples showing. "Now, why did you not tell me of your secret? We could have sparred, it would have been glorious!"

It is all that really bothers Thor, that he should have told him because then they could have battled without him reigning in his considerable strength. So he laughs, drawing Thor into a hug that was a bit too tight to be comfortable. He let him go with a pat on his meaty shoulder, shooting him a cheeky grin.

"I knew I could count on you to be the most positive eh, big guy?"

Perhaps he should not have ignored the glint in Thor's eyes that said _I care more than you think_ but no one could say Tony wasn't good at seeing what he wanted and ignoring problems. He could probably convince some overpaid idiot to give him a PHD on the subject. But instead he just smiled again and walked over to grab a glass that is really more like a bucket to share his scotch.

If they end up watching old romcoms, well, that too is a Midgardian custom.

 

 

*.*.*.*.*

He blew up a lot of shit after Steve's visit. 


	2. Chapter two

Thirty-four

The tower is his. All 88% of it is his. So even during his little hiding-in-Hollywood stint there is nothing going on inside there that he doesn’t know of. No conversation that goes unheard, no data unchecked, because JARVIS never stops watching. Never stops recording, never stops keeping tabs. JARVIS knows he can’t die, he even helped him test several hypotheses after having to re-boot him the first time he suggested getting his AI to help him find ways he can’t die.

So Tony knows Steve spent days wrecking his brain (and Wikipedia) on immortality. He knows Bruce has a heavily encrypted file detailing the hypothesis that _maybe_ Tony was exposed to radiation as a baby (with Howard Stark as a father anything is possible) because Bruce was exposed to radiation and spat out a bullet that one time he pulled the trigger. He purposefully doesn’t laugh at the equally idiotic idea that he is either an alien, that his old man perfected the super serum and tested it on him or that he has ‘divine intervention’ on his side.

That one nearly makes him loos his poker face because with the arrival of Thor divine intervention has become a lot more common than one would think, but no.

It is a bit insulting when they are genuinely surprised by his decision to return. It is sudden and flashy and the only way it could have been less inconspicuous was if he did hire those dancers with the trained monkeys to perform a flash mob in the lobby. Instead he opted for a limousine (Ironman colours, of course) and an illegal fireworks show to go off the exact moment he set foot into the building. The fireworks too, were red and gold. Bright and bold.

Pepper he kisses on the cheek, knowing the look on her face before she even consciously shows it. Thor he claps on the back and Bruce earns a wave. He’s gone then, locking himself into his workshop as if he’d never left and letting his music blast as loudly as it did before.

He’s Tony Stark and he’s done with hiding.

(why hide when nothing can kill you?)

*.*.*.*.*

The incident leaked out, because of course it did, and the main questions remains the same. Why a suit of armour? Why cover yourself with steel plate when you don’t need it to keep yourself safe? Why cover vital points _when they aren’t vital_? Why bother shielding yourself from bullets when, hey, you can’t die?

Some people are smart and point out the suit’s offensive capabilities, increased manoeuvrability and general badass-ness, but the idiots of the internet refuse to see the light. Tony doesn’t care, not really, public opinion is something that long since ceased to matter to him. It doesn’t stop him from trolling the forums with bogus theories and even more stupid comments because that’s the only fun he can get out of the whole thing and he’ll be damned if he passes the opportunity by.

*.*.*.*.*

The atmosphere is tense. The dinner had been Steve’s idea, enforced with ample death threats should he fail to appear.

“Death threats lose their efficiency when the recipient can’t, you know, actually die.” Tony snarks, arms crossed in front of his chest and eyebrows raised pointedly. It’s a low blow, but he’s not afraid of hitting below the belt.

Steve falters, flushes and frowns in that order. “Just .. “ a pause, “just be there.”

He shrugs, ushers Steve out of his lab and puts the music back on. He’ll let the capsicle stew on whether or not he’ll be there for a while, it will make his actual appearance at the meal all the more satisfying.

He’s perfectly fine to ignore the elephant in the room, watching the others share glances (superspies excluded because they don’t _do_ nervousness) and fidget a bit. The food is fine too, some ethnic Indian thing Bruce must have spruced up and it has way too much spices but Tony doesn’t mind. He’s too busy enjoying watching them squirm.

It gets a bit sad in the end though, so he decides to save them the effort.

“Am I going to have to wait until I die of old age before you breach the subject? Because that really might be the only way for me to stay dead so I really wouldn’t recommend that if you want me to hear what you obviously don’t want to say.”

“Tony!” Captain righteousness barks, angry or shocked or something. Tony pretends not to care.

“Steve,” Natasha soothes, though the edge to her voice is sharp. "We’re here because we’re all a bit hurt that you wouldn’t confide in us, Tony. What you have is something that we should have known about from the start, it could have made a difference-“

“It is not something I _have_ ,” he cuts in, “it is not like the suit, something that can be put on and off at will. And what difference would it have made? I already told you, I will not be a meat shield. What would you have me do differently? I am already the one who goes into high-risk situations because I have a _suit_ that is bullet proof and can withstand explosions and now that you know my body can do the same you want me to do what, exactly?”

Bruce looks a bit green, not Hulk-y green but more sick-green. “You’ve survived explosions?”  
  
Tony waves a hand in the air. “Multiple. Do you want the full list or the abridged version?”  
  
They don’t. It all goes downhill when he tells Steve to stop clenching his fork so tight because if he’s thinking of stabbing him it wouldn’t do much because, you know, functional immortality?  
  
Maybe it’s petty and inappropriate and hurtful but when has he ever been or done anything else?

*.*.*.*.*

JARVIS monitors everything but there is a small gap in his recordings that night, it isn’t more than two hours long and where the gap should have been has been carefully filled with fake data. If one were to be in possession of hacking skills on par with Tony Stark’s and JARVIS’ combined efforts they would have noticed that at that exact moment neither Tony Stark’s nor Pepper Potts’ presence is accounted for in the Tower and that one room was suspiciously empty at that time.

Voice recordings would yield only silence, but only two people know that many, _many_ words were said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive?
> 
> I've come to collect the various incentives offered to me in return for posting a chapter. I believe one was a right arm? Id like a second right arm.
> 
> Anyway, so I'm obviously not dead. I have also graduated from High School (with, amazingly enough, pretty fantastic marks) and am now a full-time law student. That's right. Law School. Which means ... zero free time (well, a little free time but I also have a job and a horse so in the end there is zero free time). 
> 
> Also, past-tense to present-day-tense shift? Because I can? Because this is not a serious fic and I basically do whatever? I hope you all like it though :)

**Author's Note:**

> I should update Deathless, but then again I should study for my exam on traffic rules in order to get my driver's license, should study for my exams and do a whole lot of other stuff. Might get continued, might turn into random drabbles. I just really don't know.
> 
> Crazy crack got done instead.


End file.
